Outrageous Fortune
by Mercury Gray
Summary: After receiving an invitation to a dance at Henley Hall, the Dead Poets have to contend with the results of tangling with Fortune, Fate and...Love? Rated because boys will be boys, and Shakespeare will be Shakespeare. NeilxOC
1. Act I, Scene I: The Curtain Rises

**Outrageous Fortune**

* * *

_The time is out of joint- oh, cursed spite!_

_That ever I was born to set it right! --Hamlet_

* * *

**Act One, Scene One- The Curtain Rises**

"Hey! Neil!" Charlie shouted across the quad, running towards the sprawl of boys working on their trig on the parched August grass.

"Charlie, what is it?" Neil asked, exasperated. The other boys looked up, too, now too distracted from their sines and arctangents to return to them without fuss.

"Look what I have found." Charlie said, brandishing a piece of paper in Neil's face. He took it away before Neil might snatch it, and read it aloud in a pompous tone. " The Gentlemen of Welton Academy- see, look, they're calling us gentlemen, what a laugh- would be pleased and honored to accept the invitation granted them by the Henley Hall School for young ladies to attend their formal mixer the last week in September!"

"You mean we got invited to a dance?" Cameron asked with his trademark sneer.

"You, me, them, the whole school! Isn't it great? They'll be girls…" Charlie looked off towards the lake and sighed. "A whole school full of girls."

"Oh, come off it, Charlie, they'll be teachers there. Dozens." Meeks stated obviously.

"Who cares?" Charlie shouted, dancing around the lawn. "Who fucking cares? GIRLS. Do I need to say it again to pound it into your thick skull? Here's my chance to get some of this…emotion out!"

"Oh, is that what they're calling it now?" Meeks asked. "Emotion?"

"Meeks, you wouldn't know the meaning of the word!" Charlie said grandly. "Now if you'll all excuse me, I have to go clean up my dress duds."

"It's not for another two weeks, Dalton!" Cameron cried after him. But Charlie was too far gone to listen.

* * *

My new muse needs to be hit over the head.

Ian: He does?

Guys, meet Neil, my newly adopted muse and the reason why I've been stuck in 1959 for the past three days. But you all know Neil Perry, and if you don't…

Neil: Why on earth are you reading this, anyway?

He hijacked my brain, my computer, and made me start work again on a story I hadn't touched in nearly three years. THREE YEARS. A story that, heretofore, had not seen the light of day on this site.

And now here it is, thirty five more pages later, finished. I don't remember where it was going when I started it, but seeing as how I only had a half a page then, I think I did it justice by going somewhere good.

So there's that first half page, the beginnings of an exercise in

OUTRAGEOUS FORTUNE.

The next scene will be up presently, dear readers...


	2. Act I, Scene II: The Players Enter

**Act One, scene Two- The Players Enter**

* * *

Charlie said afterwards that when the doors of the Henley Hall Women's Academy opened to admit the Welton Boys a choir of angels began singing and a sweet smell like the gates of heaven were opening drifted forth. Though it was well received and thought all around to be a good story, Cameron maintained that the music in the background was only the Mary Martin Broadway production of The Sound of Music on the record player and the smell, cheap perfume.

Charlie and company, however, refused to be daunted by such unimaginative behavior, and followed Mr. Nolan with long, confident steps until reaching the doors of the Henley Hall Gymnasium, where the Headmistress greeted them and after a brief conversation with Nolan, opened the doors.

The boys stepped into the semi-darkness, wide-eyed and mystified. The music stopped. "It's like looking at a garden," Meeks said, and to a degree, he was right. In front of them stood perhaps fifty girls, each wearing a party dress in a different shade of pastel with dainty white gloves adorning hands that had to be perfectly manicured and cleaned to perfection underneath.

"Meeks, my boy, a truer word was never said," Charlie remarked with a rakish smile. "I like the one in the green," he whispered to Neil, pointing at a tall blond in seafoam and nodding her way. The blonde giggled and said something to her friend, who glanced prettily around the girl in front of her and waved coquettishly, stopping and looking alarmed as a teacher across the room glared.

"Gentlemen," said Nolan, after the teachers had taken up their positions around the room as though they were guarding a fortress from invasion. "Behave."

He might have said "Go!" to the same effect, for the boys broke into the mass of girls and began chatting away, the music and dancing that was to be the object of the evening only an afterthought. Charlie dragged Neil over to the tall blonde and, taking her gloved hand, kissed it and said, "Enchante," like an experienced roué. The blonde laughed along with her friend and smiled coyly.

"Do you do that to every girl you meet?"

"Only the good looking ones. Charles Dalton. But you-" he leaned close, as if whispering a secret, "can call me Charlie."

"Charlie," said the blonde, as though it were the cutest thing in the world. "Christine Mason…and this is my friend, Janice Hardy."

"Aren't you gonna introduce your friend?" Janice asked, pointing at Neil, who had been hanging back from the conversation with his hands in his pockets, taking in the scene.

"Oh," said Charlie, "That's Neil. You wouldn't want to dance with him," He said a little louder so Neil would hear, "because he's got two left feet and no sense for music."

"That is a lie," Neil defended, turning around.

"So you'll dance with me?" Janice asked, and Neil, seeing no other alternative, lead her closer to the record player, which was belting out the gently rocking melodies of the Everly Brothers singing "Bye-Bye, Love."

After that song, Janice passed him off to her friend Arlene, who lent him to her friend Deborah, who went for punch long enough for Neil to slip out of the dancing crowd of teenagers to get some air at the side of the room.

He was quite alone waiting on the side of the room. Even Meeks was dancing, near the fringe of the crowd with a girl who was raving about how she loved smart men and how his glasses were just 'to die for.' Neil shook his head and leaned against the wall of the gymnasium, watching Deborah trying to find him.

"Trying to escape Debbie? I would, too; that dress makes her look ridiculous." Said a cynical voice from down the wall a bit. Leaning against the wall herself, she looked a little silly; her pose didn't quite match her dress, which by this party's standards was very conservative, with elbow length sleeves where all the other girls were taking the opportunity to show off snow white shoulders. She was also wearing a strand of pearls and a very dismissive expression.

Neil looked back at Deborah and chuckled. "I suppose she does," he considered. "Then again, I suppose we look pretty ridiculous sitting back here by ourselves."

The girl laughed. "If music be the food of love, play on;  
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,  
The appetite may sicken, and so **die**." She quoted.

"That's Shakespeare," Neil said, impressed.

"Oh, you're a smart one," the girl said, shaking her head. "It's Twelfth Night. Orsino is talking about his unrequited love for Viola."

"Olivia. He's talking about Olivia," Neil corrected. "Her brother's just died and she's vowed not to marry. Viola doesn't come in until later."

The girl glanced at him to judge if he wasn't bluffing and then stood up, impressed, holding out her gloved hand- a glove, Neil could see, that was too small for a large and unassuming hand. "Evelyn Langford, Shakespeare enthusiast. And that was just a test."

"Neil Perry, fellow Shakespeare enthusiast. Did I pass?" Neil said, shaking her hand enthusiastically, surprised to find she had a strong grip. She nodded. "Refreshing to not get a simpering sigh when I do that," he said, motioning to the handshake.

Evelyn sniggered and rolled her eyes. "Not one of the girls in this room who is graduating this year is seriously considering any degree other than her Em- Arr- Ess."

"Her MRS?" Neil asked, a little confused. Evelyn gave him a significant look and then held up her hand and twisted an invisible ring. "Oh," Neil said, understanding finally. Evelyn nodded.

"And I pity them," she commented. "They will never know the joy and utter freedom of being a woman with a degree in the new decade. I predict great things out of 1960."

"So you're going for a BA?" Neil asked, glad that he had found something he could talk about without sounding like an idiot -- school.

"A BA, yeah, but why stop there? MA, Ph.D? The letters sounds so inviting, so powerful. Evelyn Langford, Ph.D. It has a nice ring to it," she decided.

"In what?" Neil asked.

"English, probably," Evelyn considered. "And you? You Hellton boys all probably go for doctorates."

"My father wants me to go for an MD," Neil answered. But Evelyn had heard what he hadn't said in that sentence.

"Your father wants? What do you want?"

Neil looked sideways at her to find that she was smiling. "Me? I…I haven't decided yet. It's not really up to me to decide."

Evelyn moved closer to him along the wall. "If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?" she asked, daring him.

Neil thought about this. "Theater," he decided. "Theater or…English. Yeah, that sounds right."

"Theater? Really? Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines," Evelyn quoted again, grandly this time, in the manner of a general admonishing her troops to do battle with words. The teacher in the corner nearest them looked strangely at her and shook her head.

"You really know him forwards and backwards, don't you?" Neil asked, amazed that she'd come up with two Shakespeare quotatations in as many minutes.

"A girl's got to know something, and they won't let Ginsberg within a mile of here."

"Afraid you'll all start becoming destroyed by madness?" Neil asked mischeviously.

"Something like that," Evelyn said with a smile. "Or we'll turn into… angel headed hipsters and pot smoking radicals." She glanced around the room. "Not that this lot will ever be radical. I think the most revolutionary they've gotten is not wearing nylons to class during June. No nylons -- Gasp!" she said with false surprise, her eyes wide. "What would our mothers do if they saw us?"

Neil couldn't help but laugh, attracting the attention of the teacher in the corner again. "Would you…maybe…like to get some punch?" he asked, pointing to the refreshments table, which was being attended by some very feed up looking kitchen staff and supervised by the headmistress who'd let them in earlier.

"I suppose I am a little thirsty."

They made their way around the coursing mass of dancers, now all enthusiastically doing the Twist (although a few couples, Charlie and the tall Christine included, seemed to be twisted around each other instead of actually dancing.)

"Not causing trouble, are you, Miss Langford?" the headmistress asked, looking dangerously at Evelyn and scrutinizing Neil behind her.

"Not at all, Mrs. Walsh, not at all," Evelyn assured her, picking up the punch and bringing a cup over to Neil. However, the gloves into which her hands had ingloriously been shoved were working against her, and before she had taken two steps towards him both glasses had slid from her hands and splashed ignominiously over the bottom of Neil's dress shirt, leaving the bottom of his torso uncomfortably cold. The music screeched to a stop and everyone turned to look.

"Miss Langford, what have you done?" The headmistress Mrs. Walsh reprimanded sanctimoniously.

"I…they slipped…I'm sorry…" Evelyn's careless wit seemed to have gone to the floor with the punch.

"Oh, move, you silly girl," Mrs. Walsh said as one of the over-tired looking kitchen workers came through with a mop and pail.

Evelyn moved quickly aside, glancing nervously at Neil's shirt. Someone stupid enough to be wearing high heels that didn't fit them accidently stepped in the slowly widening pool of punch and with an awful shriek that would have rendered stars from the heavens went head over heels, her partner both bemused at having seen her drawers and mortified that everyone else had, too. In the confusion that followed, Evelyn dragged Neil away to the bathroom, quickly ducking inside the men's room with him in tow to drag the shirt out of his pants and survey the damage.

"Oh, damn," Neil said, looking at the bright red stain in the mirror. "That's not coming out easily."

The door closed, leaving the shouting mass behind them in strangely silent bathroom. Silent except for the sounds of one lone male finishing up business. Evelyn froze as a voice sounded out from inside the last stall.

"Hey, Neil, is that you?" Charlie's voice asked."I was thinking, maybe we should invite some of the girls to a Dead Poet's meeting. Christine says-"

At that moment he came out of the stall and saw Neil with his shirt out, his buttons being undone by a very nervous looking Evelyn. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, surprised. "I wasn't aware I was interrupting."

"Oh, by all means, keep going," Evelyn said, the ice queen edge back in her voice.  
"Don't let me interfere with important affairs of state," she added, stepping back from Neil's disarray with her hands up in the air as if she were surrendering. Charlie gave her a once over and then turned back to Neil, clearly impressed.

"Well?"

Neil wasn't prepared. "Well, if they like poetry, I guess…"

"See, I've talked with Cameron, who wouldn't say boo about girls, and Knox is undecided. I can't find Meeks or Pittsie, and Todd's not saying much to anyone, so I doubt he'll care. I'm still thinking about it. I mean, the Dead Poets is kind of a guy thing now, our male bonding time, if you will," Charlie was saying, trying not to look at Evelyn too much.

"Are you saying women have made no significant contributions to poetry?" Evelyn asked, stepping forward between the two boys. "Because I beg to differ. Anne Bradstreet, the Bronte sisters, Elizabeth Barrett-Browning, Emily Dickinson.'I grant I am a woman; but withal, A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:I grant I am a woman; but withal, a woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter.'" She was in full strength now, and it was, for Neil, a thing awesome to behold.

Charlie laughed. "Well, do go on," he proffered, shifting his weight to listen to her. She obliged him.

"Think you I am no stronger than my sex,  
Being so father'd and so husbanded?

Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em:  
I have made strong proof of my constancy,  
Giving myself a voluntary wound  
Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience,  
And not my husband's secrets?" she finished, as if challenging Charlie.

Charlie, at any rate, was impressed. "Consider yourself counted in, then, if you're brave enough to bicycle the five miles to get to the old Indian cave in the Welton Woods," He dared her. "Perry," he said seriously, nodding to Neil and clapping him on the shoulder, leaving the bathroom with an odd look on his face. "Good man. Carry on."

For a moment they were both quiet, and then Evelyn said, visibly deflated from her rendering of Portia, "He thinks we came in here to have sex."

Neil looked at her with intense shame, wishing to every deity he could name that Charlie hadn't been in the bathroom. "I'm really sorry about Charlie, he's kind of…"

"Neil, don't worry about it!" Evelyn said with a laugh. "We're in here and I'm un-tucking your shirt. What else does it look like?"

Neil considered this and nodded. Meanwhile, she had taken a paper towel from the dispenser, wet it under the tap, and was scrubbing at the cherry pink stain on his white shirt. "Well, it'll be wet, but if you wash it, it should come out and leave the shirt good as new. At least, that's what my mother says, I've never actually tried it myself. And god only knows what was in that punch," she added, speaking a lot faster than she had been a few minutes ago.

"Evelyn, are you…nervous?" Neil asked her. "I know Charlie can be embarrassing, if you don't want people to talk…"

"Do you want to have sex?" Evelyn asked, abrupt and matter of fact, looking straight at him. "It would save you the trouble of having to explain to him later."

Neil was taken aback. "Ah…well…I just met you about a half an hour ago," he managed. "Maybe we'll save that for the second date."

Evelyn grabbed another towel and began drying the now pink and sopping wet shirt. "I didn't even know we'd been on a first one yet," she said.

"Well, I think getting caught in the bathroom together should count," Neil said fairly.

"You'd really go on a date with a girl who doused you in punch?" Evelyn asked, still surprised.

"It can't get any worse from here," Neil reasoned, and Evelyn nodded, agreeing with him. "We should probably leave separately," he said, looking at the door and cautiously opening it. "They're all still looking the other way," he said, letting her make a run for the edge of the crowd, which was back to dancing. The teachers were all standing in a knot around the sticky punch-patch, and Neil also made a quick and quiet exit, making for the other side of the room. They met again in the middle of the dance floor, afraid of being noticed, and Evelyn asked,

"So, when's this Dead Poet thing of yours, and will it count as our second date?" she asked with a daring smile.

Neil smiled. "Next Friday."

* * *

Yes, I did somewhat quote Howl, and yes, Shakespeare quotes will be coming out of this story like filling out of a squashed twinkie. Because I think Shakespeare is the man, and I don't get to do that very often.

You don't like Shakespeare, tough. You don't like twinkies, you read my metaphor wrong.

And I decided I was going to write what seems to be the only romance, non-slash fic in this category, with the justification that just because Neil and Company go to an all boy's school, it doesn't make them gay. Although that does come up later.

Reviews, please!


	3. Interlude

**Interlude**

"So I asked Christine about your Evelyn Langford," Charlie was saying on the bus ride home, too exhilarated to be sleeping, as some of the other boys were doing. "Apparently she is a firebrand of sorts. Reads beat poetry, wears a beret and dresses San Franscisco style when she can get away with it. All black- very sexy. And she's an actress. You know what they say about actresses, don't you?"

"I don't, Charlie, but I'm sure it involves sleeping around," Neil said.

"She really likes you, Neil," Charlie said. "I mean, really likes you. I know these things. And Christine said she normally doesn't talk to guys much."

"Does Christine hang out with her?" Neil asked, wondering how she could be such an expert.

"She keeps to herself, mostly," Charlie said. "But I think you can change that." He looked at the window and smiled to himself. "Neil Perry, lady's man. I like the sound of that, don't you?"

"Not as much as I'd like the sound of you not talking right now," Neil said, disgruntled and very, very tired.


	4. Act II, Scene I: A Cave, Fall Night

**Act Two- A Cave, Autumn night.**

* * *

There was a light breeze blowing when the Welton boys tip-toed out of their dorms to convene in the old Indian cave for another meeting of the Dead Poets Society. Neil had just finished reading last meeting's minutes when Pitts said "Did anyone else hear that?"

Everyone stopped laughing to listen as outside, there was the discernable crunch of boots on dead leaves.

"Have I missed the fun part yet?" Evelyn asked, poking her head inside the cave's small mouth.

"Evelyn?" Neil asked.

"Hey, Neil, who the hell is this?" Cameron said, affronted. "I thought we said no girls."

Charlie chuckled. "But this, gentlemen, this is no _girl_. This is an …Amazonian scholar with a taste for Shakespeare…and our pal Neil here. And with good taste like that, how could we not let her come? She's one of us, fellows, a comrade trying to suck the marrow out of life," he said grandly.

"Charlie Dalton, you're really a perfect ass when you try hard enough," Evelyn said, scrambling through the opening and trying not to compromise herself. She was wearing a bulky sort of overcoat and very heavy boots, and looked to be breathingly heavily. "And by the way, Christine wants to call you. I'm not supposed to leave without a number," she said on an off note, sitting down. "Gentlemen," she said, nodding to everyone.

"Does the Amazonian scholar have a name?" Meeks asked, interested in whoever would be introduced with as interesting an adjective as Amazonian.

"Evelyn Langford," said Evelyn, sitting down next to Neil. "But Evey's fine for right now."

"Well, you do know that if you come to a Dead Poet's meeting, you have to read something," Cameron said, determined to make the addition of this newest member as hard as possible.

"Cameron, that's not fair!" Todd said, surprising everyone with the exclamation. "I don't have to read," he said, much quieter.

"I'll read," Evelyn said. "Let it never be said that Evey Langford, the – what did you call me? Amazonian Scholar?—backed down from a challenge. Let me catch my breath."

"I'll read, then," Charlie said. "Now Evey, I'm going to have to apologize, I was thinking of Christine with this in mind," he said, flipping through the book, pausing to look each person in the face and then beginning.

"SHE walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies,

And all that's best of dark and bright

in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress

Or softly lightens o'er her face,

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,—

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent," finished Charlie with a little mysterious flourish. The cave was filled with clapping.

"I can tell you for a fact her heart is not at all innocent," said Evey matter of factly, taking the volume from Charlie, her breath recovered. She pulled a black beret from her coat pocket and pulled in onto her head, beat-style. "I know she reads novels before she goes to bed at night."

"Trashy novels?" Charlie asked, hopeful.

"The very trashiest," Evey assured him. "Bodice-rippers."

There was a collective sound of appreciation and Evey flipped through the book. "Oh, here's a good one," she said, standing up carefully and looking around the boys, taking a deep, exhilarating breath and beginning.

"I taste a liquor never brewed,  
From tankards scooped in pearl;  
Not all the vats upon the Rhine  
Yield such an alcohol!

Inebriate of air am I,  
And debauchee of dew,  
Reeling, through endless summer days,  
From inns of molten blue.

When landlords turn the drunken bee  
Out of the foxglove's door,  
When butterflies renounce their drams,  
I shall but drink the more!"

It was more of a performance than a recitation- she raised her voice and gestured wildly, taking the occasional drunken step this way and that, her eyes flinging exuberance around the cave.

"Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,  
And saints to windows run,  
To see the little tippler  
Leaning against the sun!" She set the volume down and smiled triumphantly. "Let it never be said women writers refused to raise hell. Emily Dickinson, gentlemen, the one and only."

There were cat-calls, and Evey sat down, pleased with herself. Even Cameron was impressed, any futher cynical comments stilled on his lips.

"How'd I do?" she asked Neil when the meeting was over and the boys began wandering home.

"I wouldn't quite call this a second date," Neil said. "I mean, there were lots of other guys there, and it's not quite a date when you have to share…"

"You just want to see me again," Evey accused, and Neil shrugged.

"Would it be a crime?" he asked, watching her retrieve her bicycle.

"Never," Evey said, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "We have visiting hours at Henley on Sunday afternoons after church," she said, pedaling off over the snow before Neil could get another word in edgewise.

* * *

I love surprising Neil. He's so fun to be spontaneous with. And ooOOoh, visiting hours. Perhaps someone will pay a visit?


	5. Act II, Scene II: A Meeting

**Act Two, Scene Two- A Meeting.**

* * *

Neil had survived the initial meeting with Dr. Hager about driving him over to Henley on Sunday; he'd even survived the inquest that followed. What he was concerned about surviving now was the front hall, which was a much more daunting prospect than the other two because in about five seconds it was going to be filled with teenage girls. He and Dr. Hager were sitting out in front of Henley in the school car, waiting for chapel to adjourn so that Neil and Hager could go inside and announce that Neil was here for his appointment with Miss Langford.

Appointment. That was the word they used. Like Neil was going to a doctor's office or a visit to the dentist.

"There's the bell," Dr. Hager said, watching the doors of the church. Neil sat forward in his seat a little and watched the girls file out of church, appropriately hated and gloved, eyes downcast, pleasantly chatty as their Sunday shoes shuffled through the leafy path from the chapel to the front doors of Henley Hall. When the last of the girls had gone inside, Dr. Hager got out of the car, walking Neil to the door.

There was a receptionist waiting to welcome them there- Neil had to sign a visitor log and then was escorted down the hall, much to the surprise and interest of the other girls still on the ground floor of the Henley building. They were probably wondering why none of them had had callers, and the word was soon passed along that Evey Langford had a visitor in the parlor downstairs.

Henley did things the old way, and that involved keeping all male visitors, including family members, confined to the visiting parlor on the ground floor, under the watchful eyes of the girl's floor matron, the resident teacher in their residence. Evey arrived with a tall dark haired woman in tow, who introduced herself in a soft British voice as Miss Pevensie, confided to both of them that she would be as intrusive as a mouse, and sat down in the corner with her gradebook and did not look their way after that.

"I didn't think you'd come," Evey said as a maid brought in tea, another old fashioned tradition Henley kept up.

"I didn't think you'd come down when they told you I was here," Neil answered back. "You look really nice," he said, gesturing to the skirt and sweater set she was wearing.

"So do you," Evey said. There was an awkward silence, and finally Evey said "Did you see that we're putting on a play in a few months?"

"I saw the poster in the hall. A Midsummer Night's Dream," Neil said.

"I think you should try out for it," Evey confided. "I know there's an actor in you somewhere. And Miss Pevensie's our director. Miss Pevensie, wouldn't Neil do well in 'Midsummer'? As Lysander, perhaps, or…Oberon!"

"Oberon's a big part, Evey. Could you handle it, Neil?" the teacher asked, looking at Neil.

"I've never really tried acting before, but I've always wanted to," Neil assured her.

"Let's hear you read a little, then," Miss Pevensie said, giving him the copy she had been marking. "Here," she said, opening the book. "Start there." She sat down next to Evey and said, "Whenever you're ready, Neil."

Neil took a deep breath, trying not to let the words swim on the page. Oberon was speaking here, quarreling with Titania and instructing Puck.

"Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove

Till I torment thee for this injury." He shook his fist at her imaginary retreating back, and Evey giggled. Neil tried to forget her.

"My gentle Puck, come hither." He gestured for the fairy sprite, and leaned down to talk to him, trying to invoke the modern aspects of the piece the way Professor Keating had shown them. "Thou rememberest  
Since once I sat upon a promontory,  
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back  
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath  
That the rude sea grew civil at her song  
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,  
To hear …the sea-maid's music." Neil finished quietly, putting the book down. Miss Pevensie was looking at him with a thoughtful quality in her eyes.

"Read for Puck next time, Mr. Perry. I think it would suit you better," she said, going back to her grading.

"Do you want the-" Neil held the book out. Miss Pevensie looked at it and shook her head.

"You and Evey will want to practice now, I expect? The tryouts are this week," Miss Pevensie said with a smile. Neil went and sat down next to Evey with the book spread out between them.

"I'm going to read for Titania," Evey said. "I think it'd be fun to play her."

"And have to kiss a donkey? Charlie's not going to like hearing about this," Neil said. Evey gave him a playful shove.

"It also means I'd be your enemy," she said suggestively, pinching his leg. "You'd be far too good as Puck to be anyone else."

* * *

Yes, my dear readers, you read that right. Pevensie. That's Susan teaching at Henley Hall- she'll come up more later. I had a great idea and couldn't put it down with her.

Reviews, pleases? They make Neil very happy. Muses eat reviews like hungry reviewers eat cookies.


	6. Act III, Scenes I, II, III, & IV

**Act Three, Scene One: Trumpets and Alarums**

* * *

_For those of you who aren't familiar with Shakespeare, Act Three is where the major problem is introduced. Romeo and Juliet get married, Macbeth kills Duncan, Caesar is stabbed. Now I'm introducing the major problem in Neil's story; I'll leave it up to you to decide what, or who, that is._

* * *

Neil arrived home that night full of ideas and bubbling over with excitement, nearly busting the door off its hinges and startling Todd out of his desk chair. " I've found it!" he proclaimed, tossing his coat over his chair and the book he'd just checked out from the campus library on his bed.

Todd was confused. " Found what?" He asked.

"What I want to do! Right now. What is really inside of me. And it's all Evey's fault, so you can blame her later when I explode from happiness." He handed Todd the poster he'd stolen from the bulletin board near the front entrance of Henley Hall, nearly hopping up and down with excitement.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream." Todd read aloud. "So what is it?"

Neil took the paper and slapped Todd upside the head with it. "A play, dummy."

"I know that," Todd said defensively. "But what's it got to do with you?"

"They're putting it on at Henley Hall. See, open try-outs," Neil pointed to the bottom of the poster. Todd was still perfectly clueless.

" So?" he asked, very confused about what this had to do with anything.

"So I'm gonna act!" Neil exclaimed. "And Evey's going to help me! It couldn't be easier. Ever since I can remember I've wanted to try it. Last summer I even tried to go to summer stock auditions but of course my father wouldn't let me."

"And now he will?" asked Todd, still confused.

"Hell, no, but that's not the point. The point is for the first time in my whole goddamned life, I know what I want, and for the first time I'm gonna do it whether my father wants me to or not! I'm going to do this play, I'm going to get my girl, I'm going to do what I want with my life! Carpe diem, goddamn it! The king doth keep his revels here tonight!" he quoted to the room, fists raised as if in victory.

Todd shook his head and went back to work as Neil dove into his play, happily humming to himself.

* * *

**Scene Two: The Forest of Athens**

"Are you ready, Puck?" Evey asked, waltzing out of the audition to where Neil was waiting in the hall, script in hand, marked and ready to do battle.

"I don't know, Titiana. Do you think I'm ready?" Neil consulted.

"I think you were born ready," Evey said, kissing him on the nose. "Now go knock her socks off," she said, pushing him inside.

Neil went inside the lighted theatre, handing his forms to the girl sitting next to Miss Pevensie and traipsing up onto the stage. There were a few of the stage lights on, and the effect was blinding.

"And who will you be reading for, Mister…Perry?" the assistant asked.

"I'll be reading for Puck," Neil said, somewhat unsure of himself now.

"If you could start at "Through the forest have I gone," on line 67 of Act two, scene one," Miss Pevensie said. He started speaking, and after that he heard no more.

* * *

**Scene Three: Another part of the Forest**

Neil stood waiting in the hall as the classrooms emptied out for Henley's last period of the day. He was skipping study period, but he didn't care about the demerits- he lived or died by the piece of paper that Miss Pevensie would be putting up shortly.

"Is it here yet?" Evey asked, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly.

"Not yet," Neil said, glancing around the hallway. They weren't the only ones waiting for the magical piece of paper; several other girls were hanging around the hallway as their comrades in learning swept on upstairs, ready to dive into another night of homework. Miss Pevensie was just emerging from her classroom, her heels clicking down the hallway as she carried her books, as well as a large sheet of paper, to the bulletin board. The waiting students held back until she was done pinning it up, and then surged towards the paper. There were shouts and cries of joy, sighs and sounds of sadness. Neil waited impatiently until at least one girl moved, then elbowed his way to the front.

"Puck!" He cried out. "I'm PUCK! And…and you're Titania, Evey!"

Evey looked surprised, but it was shortlived. When he was out of the crowd he hugged her tightly, then pulled back to look at her. Before he could say "Well done!" she was kissing him, 

full on the lips, in front of everyone, most of whom were too preoccupied (or too polite?) to notice.

"Oh, give me my sin again," she said when he had pulled away, and bent their heads together a second time. Neil was breathless, the first real kiss he'd ever really…what was the line? It was from Romeo and Juliet, he knew, he'd read it as a freshman, just a silly boy…

"You kiss by the book," he said finally.

"Is there any other way?" Evey asked mischievously. "I'd better stop, otherwise I'll get demerits for public indecency."

"I didn't think you worried about things like that," Neil accused.

"I do now," Evey said. "If I get kicked out of the play, that means I get to spend less time with you. First practice is tomorrow, Robin Goodfellow."

* * *

**Scene Four- A Merry Interlude.**

"So, do you woo any women in your role as Puck?" Charlie asked as they sat in the common room, lounging on a study break.

"No, Puck's more the narrator of the play. He instigates a lot of people falling in love, including Titania with the donkey-headed Bottom. He's a troublemaker," Neil said, flipping through his script with fascination.

"Not unlike yourself, Mr. Perry," Charlie said, imitating Mr. Nolan. "And you get to hang out with Eee- vee," he said the name in a singsong voice, getting a punch in the shoulder from Neil. "Hey, I'm only saying. It's a theater, man; There's lots of dark corners for getting comfy in."

* * *

There's one more scene in act three, and then we'll move on to Act Four! I didn't want to lift too much text from the movie (which we get a lot of in the next scene) so that's why there are some abbreviated episodes in this act, like the scene with Neil and Todd stealing homework and Neil coming back to the dorm announcing his victory.

* * *


	7. Act III, Scene V The Cave

**Act Three, scene Five- a deserted cave.**

* * *

"I still can't believe you brought that ugly lamp home," Evey was saying as the gentlemen settled themselves into the old Indian cave, waiting for Charlie to finally decide to show up.

"Why on earth did you have that in the scene shop?" Pitts asked, disgusted that something with that much bad taste had ever entered the doors of the sainted Henley Hall.

"I think we did a production of 'You Can't Take it With You,' or something like that. It was before my time, anyway," Evey said, "And I decided it was time for it to go."

"And I liked it," Neil defended. "Well, are we going to start this shindig? Knox is over at the Danburry's probably getting sloshed and God only knows where Charlie is."

"All right by me," Meeks said.

"I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately," They all recited, Evey trying to mouth along with Neil, not remembering the words. "I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life."

Outside, there was the sound of giggles- very feminine giggles.

"You didn't… invite anyone else, did you?" Neil asked Evey. Evey shook her head.

"I haven't even told anyone about it."

"Oh, my God!" said Cameron in disgust, alarmed that their male sphere was being invaded once again.

"Is this it?" A female voice asked outside.

"Yeah, this is it. Go ahead, go on in." It was Charlie. "It's my cave. Watch your step."

" We're not gonna slip, are we?" Another voice, also female, asked.

"Uh-oh." It was the first girl again.

Cameron and Pitts, who were carrying the flashlights, shined them over the entranceway, temporarily blinding the first girl who stumbled over the rocks to the cave. She was followed closely behind by another, a very blonde sort.

" Hi," the first one said. There was a scramble among the boys to stand up, Pitts hitting his head on the ceiling in the process. Evey contained a laugh at their efforts to impress girls who were clearly townies and watched them all awkwardly introduce themselves.

Charlie came scrambling in behind them, beret cocked and ready for poetry. "Hi, you guys. Meet, uh, Gloria and—" he turned to look at the blonde, who looked offended he hadn't remembered her name.

"Tina," she supplied, miffed.

"Tina," Charlie repeated, looking around the cave with a mischievous smile. "This is the pledge class of the Dead Poets Society."

"Hello. How do you do?" The boys said. Gloria and Tina seemed confused by these boys, who were probably another species compared to the ones they knew- boys who wore shirts with collars and ties and greeted women by standing up and saying 'How do you do?' instead of 'Hey, baby."

"Evelyn," Evey said, holding her hand out to shake. "Nice to meet you," She said, smiling and shaking both girls' hands; the handshakes were limp and the hands clammy.

"Guys, move. Move," Charlie urged. "Come on, folks. It's Friday night. Let's get on with the meeting.

Hurriedly everyone, Evey not included, rushed to stand up and proffer his seat, full of 'excuse me's and 'sorry's.

"So, Charlie, did you ever get a chance to call Christine?" Evey asked when Tina and Gloria had sat down. The rest of the boys looked at Charlie, noticing that Evey wasn't looking very kindly on the new intruders.

"No," Charlie said blithely. "No, I didn't. she didn't seem too interested in me anyway," He said. "Unlike these two…goddesses," He elaborated, making both girls giggle.

"So, do you go to Ridgeway?" Gloria asked, glancing at Evey. "I've never seen you there before."

"I go to Henley Hall," Evey said with just a little bit of acid in her voice, scooting a little closer to Neil and taking his hand in her own as if to say, 'This is my man, you meek, pathetic little thing, and don't try anything on him or I'll claw your eyes out.' Neil, noticing this, thought it was rather funny and wrapped his arm around Evey's shoulders and whispered in her ear as Charlie started speaking,

"I think you can put the claws away now."

"Guys, I have an announcement to make," Charlie was saying, "In keeping with the spirit of passionate experimentation of the Dead Poets, I'm giving up the name Charlie Dalton. From now on, call me Nuwanda.

" Nuwanda?" repeated Pitts, not believing his ears.

"Where the hell did that come from, Charlie?" Neil asked.

"Who knows, with Charlie," Evey said, a lot of acid still in her voice.

Tina took out a tube of very red lipstick and opened it, meaning to brighten the already dazzlingly bright lips. Charlie, however, intercepted it and drew a set of fierce looking arrows on his cheeks, making a barbaric sort of face and then, sitting down, asked, "Well, we gonna have a meeting or what?"

"Yeah," said the blonde. "If you don't have a meeting, how do we know whether we want to join or not?"

"Join?" Neil asked, surprised, a sentiment that was echoed by many of the other boys. Charlie looked affronted.

"Well, Evey's a member," Charlie said. "Why should Tina and Gloria be any different?"

"Because…" Neil tried to think of a good reason.

"Yeah, why should we be different?" Gloria asked, chewing her gum rather loudly.

"Well, I'm only a member because I write poetry," Evey explained, not really putting it past these girls to actually write anything worth wasting the paper on.

"You are?" Neil asked, quite sure there were a few other reasons why Evey was here and no other women were.

"Yes," said Todd, speaking up for the first time in a long time and playing along with her lie. "Good poetry, too."

"I don't believe her," Tina said. "Read some."

"Yeah," chimed in Gloria. "Read some."

"Well, I've got something I'm working on now," Evey said. "Very in tune with the idea of the Dead Poets Society, and sucking the marrow out of life. It's called 'Lie.'"

She stood up and took a few sheets of paper out of her pocket, covered in scribbles and crossouts, shuffling them into the right order and then clearing her throat.

"We're living to fight and we're fighting to die

there's death on my conscience and blood in my eye

the breath of existence is only a sigh

if this is called living, then living's a lie."

She picked up tempo, her voice on the edge of shouting, despairing for the whole human race as she ranted on.

"we're packing up courage and putting on fears

our bread has been buttered by blood and by tears

our gods have all left us and lonliness leers-

in this we'll continue for ten thousand years.

we're living to fight and we're fighting to die

we're building a fortress that's ten miles high

in case of disaster, our people will fly

if this is called living, then living's a lie.

they call us by number and never by name

we're all of us different and all of us same

with a roll of the dice we have entered the game

a game that will tease us, and torture, and maim.

we're living to fight and we're fighting to die

we're waiting to laugh and we're hoping to cry

a voice inside asking, a thousand times, why?

if this is called living, then living's a lie."

The cave was stunned. Gloria and Tina looked like they come to the wrong place, and Neil wanted to pull Evey down and kiss her senseless for showing the other girls what for without resorting to violence. Evey sat down, shoving the paper back in her pocket.

"It's still a work in progress," she said, trying to break the silence. "It's not very good right now, but it'll get better. Who's next?"

"Well, I compose poetry, too," Charlie said, trying to win back the confidence of his lady friends, who Neil could see (because his eyes weren't blinded by the mere presence of women) were not the sort of girls Welton men are expected to marry. Lipstick too bright, clothes off the rack at Sears, perfume bought at a drugstore and not the scent counter at Nieman Marcus.

Charlie leaned over to Tina, reciting, in a way that made it sound to the untrained ear as if he were making it up, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate."

"That's so sweet," Tina said, clearly not understanding any of it.

"I made that up just for you," Charlie assured her. The rest of the group sniggered when Tina said, naively,

"You did?"

Cameron shook his head and Charlie, undaunted, moved next to Gloria. "I'll write one for you too, Gloria," He said, thinking for a moment and then moving into one of his tried and true favorites. "She walks in beauty like the night…" he paused, as if trying to think of the next line. Evey shook her head and buried her face in Neil's shoulder, trying not to laugh. "She walks in beauty like the night,

Of cloudless climes and starry skies.

All that's best, dark and bright,

Meet in her aspect and her eyes."

"That's beautiful," Gloria said, just as impressed as Tina.

"There's plenty more where that came from," Charlie assured her.

"You know, Charlie, I swear I've heard that second one before somewhere," Evey said. "Maybe you said something like it to Christine once," she said. "But I don't know. You hear a lot of things like that nowadays."

This was threatening to turn into a catfight even if the majority of the assembled weren't actually women, and it was making that majority, who didn't deal with catfights very often, very nervous.

"I think we should move on to the real poetry now," Pitts said, glancing at Meeks and then at Cameron, who was still disgusted at the whole turn of events. "How about I go?" he said, opening up the book to a random page and scanning the poem he found there. "Here's a good one," he said, a little bit too enthusiastically, standing up gingerly with the flashlight in hand and book in the other.

"I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree," he began, "And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, and live alone in the bee-loud glade."

Gloria yawned, and interrupted Pitts, asking "Is this all you do? Sit around and read poetry?"

Pitts stopped and sat down, his rendering of "Innisfree" muffled instantly by the suggestion that their lady friend might be bored.

"And what kind of poem is that, anyway?" Tina asking, pulling a bottle of liquor out of her purse. "Who wants to live alone on an island?"

"That's Yeats," Evey said protectively, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"So?" Tina asked, unscrewing the top of the bottle. "He doesn't know how to live, if you ask me. Go ahead, pass it around," she said, giving the bottle to Neil.

Neil glanced at Cameron, who shook his head imperceiveably, and then took a swig anyway, smiling and passing the bottle to Evey.

Evey held the bottle up to the light, glanced at the label, and passed it to Cameron. "I'm not much of a whiskey drinker," she said, smiling thinly at Tina. "Wine's more my thing," she said.

"Oh," Tina said. "Do you like Chianti?"

"Chianti," Evey repeated, trying not to laugh. "No, there's this winery out in California my dad's got stock in…We've got cases of the stuff at home. It's pretty good."

Tina nodded, not having a comeback to that, because her father probably didn't own stock in anything, and had probably never seen any wine besides the cheap chianti bottles they put on tables in Italian restaurants to hold candles.

"Me and Pitts are working on a hi-fi system. It shouldn't be that hard to, uh, to put together," Meeks said, trying to impress Gloria and Tina again, but it looked like it was going nowhere fast- apparently they were't the types that liked boys in glasses with high test scores and bright futures.

"Yeah. Uh, I might be going to Yale," Pitts began. "But, I, I might not," He finished lamely.

"Don't you guys miss having girls around here?" Gloria asked, taking a long drag from her cigarette, clearly a girl who'd been around the block before a few times and who was beginning to wonder what sort of nest of nerds she'd walked into.

" Yeah," Meeks and Pitts said at the same time, nodding like dummies. Neil wrapped his arm around Evey a little tighter and Evey turned to covertly kiss his ear, blowing softly into it to make him shudder a little.

"That's part of what this club is about," Charlie said. "Regaining the calming influence of women in our turbulent lives. In fact, I'd like to announce I published an article in the school paper, in the name of the Dead Poets."

"What?" Cameron asked, horrified.

" Demanding girls be admitted to Welton," Charlie summarized, looking pleased with himself.

"You didn't," Pitts said, just as mortified as Cameron.

"So we can all stop beating off," Charlie whispered to Meeks. Evey rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Charlie, are you nuts?" she asked. Charlie ignored her, still pleased as punch at the impression he'd made.

" How did you do that?" Neil asked, interested and concerned at the same time.

"I'm one of the proofers. I slipped the article in," Charlie said with a shrug.

"Look, uh, it's, it's over now," Meeks said, shaking his head. The gaity of earlier had gone.

"Why? Nobody knows who we are," defended Charlie.

"Charlie, this is absurd," Evey said. "I don't care what you think about co-education, I'm all for it, but this—this is the wrong way to do it. I'll see you guys," she said, disgusted, picking up her coat and leaving the cave.

Neil gave Charlie a scathing look and dashed out after Evey. "Evey! Evey, wait up!"

"Neil, I can't believe you are letting them waste their time with those girls!" Evey said once they were far enough away from the cave that the ongoing argument would drown out their own.

"They're old enough to make their own decisions on how to be stupid!" Neil said.

"They're not aware of the fact that those are the kind of girls who eat poor guys like Meeks and spit them out in the trash as broken men!" Evey said. "And I like your friends, Neil! I like them a lot! They're smart and funny guys who happen to live with a bunch of men all the time and don't know the ways of women, which I know (from personal use) can be terrible things. And I don't want to see them get hurt by callous bitches like Gloria and Tina who wear enough make-up to send a whore packing and who don't know Shakespeare from shit! They are so much better than that!"

"Evey, wait," Neil plead.

"No, Neil, forget it. I'm going home. I'll see you at practice when you've all sobered up."

And she was gone, pedaling into the autumn mist.

* * *

The poem used in this chapter (aside from Byron and Yeats) is my own; I won a poetry slam with it my Junior Year of High school. Ironically, that is the final copy, so any editing would be to Evey's discredit.

I decided I needed to include this episode after watching DPS again, and suddenly Evey was really pissed off. I have no idea why. So- DRAMA for our dramatic teenagers. Who knew?

Reviews, please? _passes hat_


	8. Act IV, Scenes I & II

Act Four, Scene One: A cold reception

* * *

Evey didn't greet him when practice started. She didn't step in to save him when Veronica, the girl playing Hermia, started flirting with him again, and she didn't even respond to him when he asked her from the wings again to listen to him.

In fact, it wasn't until the end of practice that he even got her attention, shouting,

"TITANIA!" from the stage in his best Oberon-esque voice. The whole auditorium turned to look at him.

Evey was the last to turn, looking coldly at him. Neil swallowed, and began his speech, cobbled together from The Two Gentlemen of Verona, which she'd recommended to him for its brilliant comedy.

"Not for the world would I leave her aside

why, man, she is mine own, my best belovèd!" he declared, pointing to her from the stage. "And I as rich in having such a jewel

As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,

The water nectar and the rocks pure gold." He dropped his arm, staring at her, hoping, praying that this would work.

"Forgive me that I do not dream on thee," he begged, "because thou see'st me dote upon another.

For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.

Forgive me, tender valentine, if sorrow,

Be a sufficient ransom for offence,

I tender it here; I do as truly suffer

Silence as e'er I did commit."

The whole room was silent, and then, out of nowhere, Miss Pevensie was clapping, walking down to where Evey was standing and whispering in her ear. Evey was crying now, and she nodded, furiously, blinking back tears and running down the aisle to hug him, and suddenly, everyone else was clapping.

"You butchered that," she said through the tears.

"I know," Neil said. "I'm glad you noticed."

"When did you do that?" Evey asked, looking at him desperately.

"In between worrying about you and worrying about Charlie getting expelled," Neil said. "I had a lot of sorrows to muddle over."

Evey gave a very wet laugh and fished a handkerchief from her pocket, blowing her nose. "I'm sure you did, you priceless fool."

* * *

With the rest of the cast in on the relationship (there were a few who after two weeks had still been in the dark about it) Neil and Evey felt a little bit more free to indulge in the public displays of affection some of the other members of the cast felt no shame in partaking in.

"A merrier hour was never wasted there," Neil said aloud to Evey – they were lounging on a stack of cushions backstage, waiting for practice to start; Miss Penvensie had delayed it an hour because her archery team had practice, too. "But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon." He sat up, looking down at her, still lying on the cushions.

"And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!" Evey read in a high, singsong voice, handing him back the script so he could take Oberon's lines.

"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," Neil said, pitching his voice into a lower octave, the effect comic, but enough to maintain the mood.

"What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence: I have forsworn his bed and company," Evey declared regally.

"You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" Neil asked. "Forswear my bed and company?" He asked, putting his nose in her face and tickling her side, making her giggle and writhe away.

"I've already done that, and it wasn't very much fun. And besides, I've never seen your bed, Neil, now come on, play Oberon. You're stately and …pissed off that I'm not sleeping with you." Evey explained.

"Damn straight," Neil said, sitting back up, book in hand. "Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord?"

"Then I must be thy lady," Evey said, langorously seductive. "But I know when thou hast stolen away from fairy land, and in the shape of Corin sat all day, playing on pipes of corn and versing love to amorous Phillida," she accused. Neil had the sense to look appalled at her suggestions. "Why art thou here," she asked, suspicious, sitting up proudly. "Come from the farthest Steppe of India? But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love, to Theseus must be wedded, and you come to give their bed joy and prosperity," She said unsympathetically, almost threatening him with this knowledge.

"Oh, lady, you have me wrong," Neil said, leaning into her, whispering. "How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? Wait," He said, breaking character, "You're sleeping with Theseus and I'm sleeping with Hippolyta? Who came up with this arrangement?"

"Shakespeare did," Evey said, hitting him over the head with her script. "It's funny. But rest easy, the guy who's playing Theseus is gay, so I don't think you have a lot to worry about there."

"Really?" Neil asked, curious and confused at the same time. The fellow had given him an off look once or twice during the last few weeks of rehearsal, but he hadn't thought anything about it. At Welton, such things were swept under doormats and generally denied, though there were a few who chose to partake.

"Yeah," Evey said, not concerned. "Really nice guy, Spencer, he's done a few things here before. Really good actor, too. He would have gotten Oberon, but Greg's taller and Oberon needs to be tall. Now come on. Keep going. Chastise me," she said in a winsome voice.

Neil rolled his eyes and kept going.

"Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night from Perigenia, whom he ravished?And make him with fair Aegle break his faith, with Ariadne and Antiopa? Wow, Titania's really making him sleep around," Neil said. "I'm not sure I want you playing this part."

"I'm not sure I want your comments every five seconds, Neil! These are the forgeries of jealousy," Evey went on. "And never, since the middle summer's spring, met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, by paved fountain or by rushy brook, or in the beached margent of the sea, to dance our ringlets to the whistling wind," she looked at him suggestively, arching an eyebrow, "But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport."

"I'd disturb all your sports if it meant I got to have you in the end," Neil said, kissing her again. It was a long kiss, with a little tongue- he was getting better at it, with a lot of help from Evelyn.

"Mr. Perry, I'll pretend I didn't see that," Miss Pevensie said pertly. Apparently she was back from her archery practice. "I need my actors now, and not in dishabille, if you please."

Evey got up quickly from the couch and went to her court of fairies, who immediately began whispering and stealing glances at Neil, who blushed a little and went back to his script as Miss Pevensie clapped her hands for Hippolyta and Theseus to began the opening scene.

* * *

'views, pleases? They make my muse Neil happy.


	9. Act IV, Scenes III The Villian Enters

**Act Four, Scene Three- The Villian Enters.**

* * *

"Neil, be sure to give this to Mr. Nolan," Miss Pevensie said before leaving. "It's next week's tech schedule."

"Is it tech week already?" Neil asked, looking at the envelope in his hands.

"Yes," said the director, a little harried herself. "That's why there's some schedule changes. We're opening on Saturday night and I think we might go a little later than planned. I just want him to know."

"I'll see he gets it," Neil said, nodding and making for the door, turning his collar up against the cold as he pedaled back to Welton, a light snow falling.

* * *

"Miss Pevensie thought you should have the schedule for next week, since it's later than agreed upon," Neil said, handing Mr. Nolan the sealed envelope, proudly bearing the Henley Hall seal in the corner.

Mr. Nolan slit the envelope, glancing over the timetable and thinking to himself. "This is very late for you to be staying out with just the bicycle, Neil," he said. "Ten o'clock, ten o'clock, midnight – we can't have the caretaker stay up that late to watch for you."

"I have to go to rehearsal," Neil said. "They're counting on me to be there all five hours!"

Mr. Nolan considered this and said, "Could we count on your honor as a student that you'd be home by twelve? No shenanigans, no…hooliganism?"

"Yes, sir!" Neil defended.

Mr. Nolan nodded, decidedly. "It's settled then. On your honor as a student. You'll be wanting the schedule back, I assume," he said, handing the paper back to Neil.

"Thank you, Mr. Nolan, sir," Neil said, taking the steps two at a time back up to his room.

What he found there wasn't quite to his liking. His father was sitting at his desk, looking grim. "Father?" Neil asked, wondering what had brought him here. And suddenly, it was all clear. "Wait a minute," he began, "Before you say anything, please let me ex-"

But Mr. Perry wasn't listening to excuses and explanations. He was a man on a mission, and he'd say what he came to say. "Don't you dare talk back to me! It's bad enough that you've wasted your time with this… this absurd acting business. But you deliberately deceived me! How, how, how did you expect to get away with this? Answer me. Who put you up to it? Was it this new man? This, uh, Mr. Keating?"

"No," defended Neil. "No, nobody-- I thought I'd surprise you. I've gotten all As in every class…"

But his father wasn't finished. "Did you think I wasn't going to find out? "Oh, my niece is in a play with your son," says Mrs. Marks. "No, no, no," I say, "you must be mistaken. My son's not in a play." You made me a liar of me, Neil!" He took a breath and composed himself. When he spoke again, his voice was cold, deadly. "Now, tomorrow you go to them and you tell them that you're quitting."

"I can't just drop out, Dad! I have the main part. The performance is next Saturday! That's not enough time for Laurence Oliver to learn the part, let alone-"

" I don't care if the world comes to an end next Saturday. You are through with that play. Is that clear? Is that clear?" He repeated loudly, looking at his son coldly.

"Yes, sir," Neil repeated lifelessly.

Mr. Perry turned to leave and then turned back. "I made a great many sacrifices to get you here, Neil, and you will not let me down." He said it more like a threat than a benevolent gift, and Neil responded with a servile, obedient,

"No, sir."

He stood in the doorway and watched his father leave. There was a hurricane swelling up inside his mouth, an earthquake starting where his heart should be, pounding in his temples, rushing to overwhelm his brain. A car was starting up outside, pulling out of the driveway. His father was leaving him here, abandoning him like he always did. It was too much!

Neil pulled his coat back on and bolted for the stairs, the surge of passion overwhelming him. He wanted to kick, scream, shout back, as though he were five again and consumed with a desire for his own way. He'd never felt this way before, felt this overwhelming desire to do what he wanted and flaunt it in the face of his father, and he wanted to tell someone who would listen.

Oh, any boy in this hallway would listen, would nod and smile and say "Yeah, I understand. I've been there. I know." But they didn't know – None of them knew! – what it was like to fight back. And he only knew one person who did, who threw caution to the wind and paddled their own canoe against the current and sailed their ship against great odds.

He grabbed a bicycle and began pedaling for Henley Hall, his breath heavy, heart heaving in his chest as though it were being tossed between waves on a stormy night at sea. There was a burn in his legs he could not ignore, but it made him feel safe, made him feel alive! Legs pounding, he got off the bike, leaning it haphazardly against the tree, running under the trees to the dormitories on the far side of the main building. She'd be on the top floor, he thought, and if he didn't find her window, he'd shout until she came to him.

'EVEY! EVEY LANGFORD! EVEY!" Three weeks of rehearsals had sharpened his voice- he could throw it to the top of the Welton clock tower if he wanted to and it would still come back to him, booming and full of power. "EVELYN LANGFORD!"

Lights were beginning to go on in the dormitories, windows thrown open, questions asked.

"Who's there?"

"A boy. He wants to see Evey."

"Evey? Always knew she was loose."

"I've seen him before, he's in the play."

"He's cute!"

"Neil?" called a voice that he knew. Miss Pevensie was leaning out her window on the end of the top floor, looking down, concern on her face. "Neil, what are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to Evey!" Neil shouted.

Miss Pevensie thought for a moment. "Here, come up the fire escape. We'll talk for a moment."

Neil nodded, dashing over to the fire escape stairs and running up to the top floor- Miss Pevensie had opened the fire escape door and let him onto the landing and into the bright hallway.

It was full of curious girls, wondering what sort of extraordinary hero had been let into their virgin temple at ten o clock on a Friday night. "In here," Miss Pevensie said, shooing the girls along and letting Neil into her room. "Evey's just got in the shower, Neil. We'll wait for her here. What's this about?" Miss Pevensie asked.

"I just wanted to talk to her about something," Neil said, sitting down in the tiny sitting room.

"It couldn't have waited?" Miss Pevensie asked kindly. Neil shook his head, and she nodded. "That kind of something. Well. I was just making some tea," she offered. "Would you like some?"

"No, thanks," said Neil, glancing around the room. There was a fireplace with a mantle cluttered with knickknacks and photographs, some of Miss Pevensie and a young man, and others of just Miss Pevensie herself. There was one, however, a little bigger than all the others. A black-and-white group shot of four children, it was placed in front of all the others, its frame a little bit more ornate. One of the children, Neil could tell, was a much younger version of Miss Pevensie.

"I see you've found my siblings," she said, coming back with her teacup. She set it down on the table between them and took the picture off the mantle. "That's my brother Peter, the oldest, and my brother Edmund, and my little sister Lucy," she said, pointing them out to Neil.

"Why don't you have any other pictures of them?" Neil asked.

"They died in a train crash when I was nineteen," Miss Pevensie said, "Along with my parents. My brother, Peter, was just about to finish university. A Cambridge man," she added, which impressed Neil. "Edmund was going to be joining him there in the fall. They would have fit in with you at Welton. Especially Peter- he was the type. Ambitious, proud, a good sportsman. He captained the fencing team for two years. You remind me a lot of him," she said, passing her thumb over the picture's playfully parted hair as if she meant to smooth it to perfection. "But he was also very unaware of his limits sometimes. It made him a good leader, if a little foolhardy. If he hadn't died young I expect he would have worked himself to death, trying to do everything he didn't have time for. You'd do well to learn from him, Neil," she said.

"…Don't ride on trains?" Neil asked. Miss Pevensie laughed.

"No. Understand that you can't be everything for everyone, and that sometimes, living a little for yourself is appropriate," Miss Pevensie said with a sad smile. "Well, I expect Evey's done with her shower. I'll go and find her so we don't raise a riot."

Neil nodded, sitting back in the chair and then leaning forward again, picking up the picture.

It had been taken in front of a small suburban house that had obviously seen the ravages of the last world war- there was little left of the front garden and the paint had smoke damage and shrapnel spotting on it. But they were all smiling- Peter, the eldest, with his arm around his sister and his brother, Miss Pevensie's hand resting on her younger sister's shoulder. Neil wished for a moment that he'd had siblings, staring at the picture.

Peter and Edmund had the same expressions in some of the pictures Mr. Keating had shown them – full of life and promise, unaware of the fact that they would soon be gone from this life. They both seemed to be saying, "Take chances! Have adventures! Go out and slay your dragons head-on! Carpe Diem! Make your life extraordinary!" as though they themselves had actually done these things themselves.

"Neil, what the hell are you doing here?" Evey asked, coming in, her hair still wrapped in a towel turban, wearing a bathrobe and, it seemed, not much else. Neil put the picture back down on the table. "They said you were shouting for me. What's gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry!" Neil said. "It was just my father, and the play, and the Dead Poets is under attack. I wanted to tell someone, and all I could think about was you!"

Evey wrapped her bathrobe tighter around herself and glanced towards the door, opened and policed from prying eyes and ears by Miss Pevensie. "What about your father, Neil?" she asked, trying to calm herself.

Now was the time to let it all come tumbling out – and tumble out it did."He came to the school because he'd found out about my being in the play, and told me he didn't want to waste my time 

with it. He called it absurd. He called Shakespeare absurd!" Neil ranted on. "He's never wanted me to do what I wanted to do. He just wants me to be like him, a suit man with a nine to five job, with a house and a dog and a white picket fence, and a wife and a son that I can boss around and control just like he's controlled me!"

He was crying now, shouting and crying jibberish, the tears and the sobbing too much for real words to convey. Evey took his head and held it against her shoulder; her bathrobe smelled of sweat and soap and slightly wet cloth, and if he hadn't been so distraught he might have laughed and joked about how close they were, but he wasn't thinking about that. He was thinking about how much of his world would collapse right then and there if she hadn't been there to hold him and she hadn't been there to say what she was saying.

"It's all right. We'll be fine. You don't have to do it if you don't want to. He can't make you ruin your life, Neil. He can't make you. I won't let him." She stroked his hair and let him cry until her bathrobe was too wet to be of any consolation anymore and he was quite out of tears.

"I'm not going to let you ruin your dream, Neil," Evey said. "We'll get through this together. Okay?" she asked, raising his head off of her chest for a moment. Neil nodded.

"Miss Pevensie was right, I guess. I am trying to be everything for everyone," he said, brushing his hair back from his eyes and putting on a brave face again. Evey looked at the coffee table and smiled.

"She knows a person back to front before they've even said anything. She's shown you the Terrible Three, hasn't she? I've seen it, too."

Neil wiped his eyes on a handkerchief he extracted from his pocket and tried to compose himself while Evey studied the picture. Welton men didn't show their emotions. Welton men didn't cry, especially in front of women. They were strong, composed, commanding. Welton men took on the world!

"She showed this to me freshman year," Evey said reminiscently. "Told me about her sister, Lucy, when I came in here babbling and crying like a baby about how no one liked me and I didn't have any friends and I wanted to go home."

"You cried?" Neil asked, allowing himself a laugh as he tried not to cry again.

"I did," Evey assured him. "And she told me about Lucy's first year at school, and how she had the heart of a lion through all of it, and I needed one of those to get me through, too. I had a hard time believing a little girl like that was the bravest person she knew, but it tided me over. And obviously I made it through." She set down the picture and looked at Neil. "And we'll get through this crap with your father come hell or high water. We'll do it together. Do you hear me? Together. None of this Welton stiff upper lip, man on his own in the world nonsense. We're a team now."

"I really don't have a choice in this, do I?" Neil asked.

"No," Evey assured him. "No, you don't. you gave up your right to a choice when you came over to my school shouting my name to the entire dormitory and dragged me in head first."

"I see," Neil said, laughing and tearing again a little.

"So you'll be all right?" Evey asked again. "You can get yourself home in one piece, no…bike accidents, no suicide attempts?"

"I'll be fine, Evey." Neil said.

"See, you say that and I'm unsure," Evey said, and Neil shook his head, laughing again.

"I'll be fine, Evey, really," he said again.

"Good, because I think Headmistress will be here soon and it's curtains on the whole shenanigans if she finds out you were here," Evey said.

"You'll have to go out the way you came," Miss Pevensie said, having shooed the rest of her charges to bed. "You'll be all right, Neil?"

"Yes," Neil said for the umpteenth time.

"Courage," Miss Pevensie said, her eyes bright with some sort of forgotten fire as she showed him the door. "The boundless wave will roll you shoreward soon."

* * *

If you can tell me what poet and what poem Miss Pevensie's last line is from, you'll get lots of props from me. Hint- He's famous enough that you'd know his name if you've taken an English class covering the 19th century. There's also a very small reference to a favorite poem of mine by a woman named Sarah K. Bolton, called "Paddle Your Own Canoe." It's very much in keeping with the Dead Poet's, so you might want to look it up.

What did everyone think of my Narnia reference? This was my big idea with Miss Susan's inclusion; I really liked the way it turned out.


	10. Act IV, Scenes IV & V

Act Four, Scene Four: Mischief, thou art a-foot.

* * *

**Warning- this chapter rated for suggestive teenage themes. Nothing explicit, just suggestive.**

* * *

Practice was over- it was time for everyone to be going home. It seemed too soon for that, although when Neil glanced at his watch, he was surprised to see that Friday was over and it was already a little ways into Saturday. This was it; tomorrow (that is to say, today) was the show. No more rehearsals, no more calling for a line, no more abrupt pauses. Just Shakespeare. Neil slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the doors, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Hopefully he could get home and get a few hours of sleep without waking anyone.

"Neil, wait," Evey said, holding him back from the crowd going for the door. "I want to show you something," she whispered to him, glancing to see that Miss Pevensie wasn't looking and then pulling him into the scene shop.

"Evey, what-"

But Evey put a hand over his mouth, waiting for Miss Pevensie to shut the lights off in the theatre, leaving the building pitch black. "I have a surprise for you," she said, leading him into the darkened room, picking her way around set pieces and cans of paint. But it wasn't totally dark- there was a light on in the far corner, a tiny beacon out of the dark, imposing shapes of shows past and props beyond their prime.

It was a cosy hideaway, a mattress with a dubious past underneath what had some shows ago been a boardwalk of some kind, or a castle wall. A desk-lamp was clipped to one of the beams, illuminating the scene with a modest glow. "Evey, what is this?" Neil asked again, looking from the lamp to the mattress to the pillows stacked on it.

"Show opening gift for you," Evey said. "I made the bed up with sheets this afternoon, and all it requires is two willing and able young bodies."

"Evey," Neil cautioned, enthralled and afraid at the same time of what she was telling him. "We shouldn't even be here."

"We shouldn't be doing this, either," Evey said, stepping closer to him, unbuttoning his shirt. "But we are. Carpe Diem, isn't that what you say?" she asked, kissing him softly. "Seize the day? I can't think of a better way than this," she said.

"You do impeach your modesty too much." The line came out of nowhere in his mind, a scene they'd done a dozen times tonight.

"Neil, I have no modesty," Evey said flatly. "I want to be …immodest with you! I offered to be immodest the first day we met, but you were too much of a gentlemen to do it then. Well, we've known each other for nearly four months now, and I still want to be immodest. And now seems a good time to do it, because if I don't get you, someone else will at the cast party. So please," she said, pulling him closer again by his belt, "Let's be human together."

"I don't know how," Neil admitted sheepishly.

"Well, that's not hard," Evey said. "Just kiss me, and we'll get to the rest later."

Clearly it wasn't that simple – after the kissing came the undressing, which was very hard when you are struck with a sudden urge not to let the other person go, and after the undressing came the… mechanical part, which Neil was also unfamiliar with except in a purely scientific sense, but they got that eventually, with a little help from Evey and a few coaxing and suggestive sighs to speed things up a bit.

And it wasn't everything everyone said it was. "That was just the first time," Evey said, letting Neil sit back a little, catching his breath. "It gets a little better with practice. You didn't know what to expect."

"You seem to be speaking from experience," Neil accused, and Evey nodded, leaning on one elbow.

"I was on vacation in France and this really good looking grad student from the Sorbonne asked me out for drinks. Needless to say it was more than drinks, but we went out a few more times before I went home. I learned a little. Then in San Franscico last summer there was this poet in the Haight- Ashbury. A puny little man," she said, staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm not-" Neil began, and Evey laughed, looking over at him.

"Men! All concerned with one thing. No, I liked you. Just the right size," she said, reaching out to touch the offending tissue. "D.H Lawrence refered to this as John Thomas through most of Lady Chatterly's Lover," she said, her index finger petting the soft, ribbed skin. "Maybe we should call yours Robin Goodfellow."

"You're obscene," Neil said, feeling very exposed.

"Yes, Puck," Evey said decidedly. "Yes, I am. But really, you're better to look at then me. More statuesque."

It was true, Evey did not look like a statue, or at least, any Greek statue Neil had ever seen in a museum- she was a little more broad in the hips, with bigger breasts and a thick thatch of hair where her legs met. But she was magnificent, Neil thought to himself, and pretty in a different way than statues. "You're beautiful," He said aloud.

"That's him talking, not you," Evey said, peeling a strand of hair back from her forehead.

"No, I mean it," Neil said, inching closer to her. "If I could stay in this moment forever, I would."

"I should probably let you go," Evey said, sitting up and shuffling over to where their clothes were sitting, looking for her watch. "God, is that the time? I should have let you go home, Neil, it's late --"

But Neil had sat up too, wrapped his arms around her from the back, smelling her hair. It was a familiar smell; he remembered her bathrobe. "Why don't I sleep here, and go home after a few hours sleep? They'll never know the difference- I have clothes here." He pushed his nose through her hair, finding the back of her neck and kissing it. "And I'm suddenly struck with the urge not to leave you. Concern for your health, and all that."

"Neil, I'm fine," Evey said.

"See, you say that, and I don't believe you," Neil quoted, bringing her own line back to haunt her. "Maybe we'll get it right the second time," he dared.

"Now who's the wanton?" Evey asked, turning around and pouncing on him.

"Cease, Amazon! I surrender!" Neil said loudly, laughing.

"Not yet you don't," Evey commanded with a laugh.

* * *

Act four, Scene Five: The curtain rises again

Neil woke up in the morning and glanced at Evey's watch, hanging from a nearby nail- seven o'clock. Early enough to pedal back to Welton, shower and be up and about with the rest of the crew by the time they all got up. Saturdays were the only late rise days allowed at Welton, and then everyone was up by nine; the successful world did not sleep in till all hours of the day.

"You smell like girl, Perry," Charlie said suspiciously as Neil entered the showers, bathrobed, towel over his shoulder.. "What time did you get in last night?"

"Late," Neil said, smiling to the mirror. Charlie frowned and studied his friend, and, finding what he was looking for, crowed with laughter.

"Neil Perry, you did the unmentionable last night, didn't you?" he asked. Neil turned to look at Charlie, his face full of innocence.

"What makes you say a thing like that?" he asked suavely.

"Because you've got a smirk," said Charlie, pausing for effect. "And a hickey," he added. Neil lost the smirk.

"Where?" He asked, clapping a hand to the side of his neck. Charlie laughed.

"So you were expecting one! That means you did do a little something-something last night. Was it with Evelyn?"

"A gentleman never tells," Neil said stoutly.

"It was!" Charlie shouted. "Oh, you bastard. You brilliant, brilliant bastard!" he went shouting down the hall. "Atta boy, Neil, atta boy! You knock 'em dead tonight!"

* * *

Me, tasteful? HA. What's a story about teenagers exploring who they are as people without a little sex in it? I wanted to see if I could still write these silly love scenes.

Neil: I'm embarassed.

Oh, go skinny dipping with Evie.

* * *


	11. Act V: The Curtain Falls

Act Five, Scene One: The Curtain Falls

* * *

"Hiya, handsome," Evey said, breezing into the makeup room and kissing Neil on the top of his head. "You look like you didn't get a lot of sleep last night," she said with a smile, setting down her bag at the station next to his and extracting a variety of jars and brushes.

"Something kept me up," Neil said blithely, rubbing foundation on his face, coating it all the same flat shade of peach.

"You going to be able to make it through tonight?" Evey asked, looking over at him.

"I think so, yeah," he said, smiling at the mirror.

"Good," Evey said, going back to her own makeup.

* * *

There was a buzzing beyond the curtain, a certain electric thrill in the air that set every nerve in his body on edge, but beyond that there was nothing here that would differentiate this performance from any of the many rehearsals and run-throughs that had been executed in the past months. Neil was waiting in the wings, watching as the curtain rose and then fell on the now familiar scene and a new sound entered his ears: applause.

"What we live for," Evey said, coming up behind him. Neil jumped a little. "Nervous much?" she asked him.

"Just a little," Neil said. "All my friends are out there, and Mr. Keating came too."

"Ah, the famous Mr. Keating. I'll remember to be extra wanton and play up all my laughs," Evey said grandly. "Neil, you'd do fine. You've done them proud just by being here."

"You look a sight," Neil said, turning to look at her, hair in long loose curls, with a great crown of flowers on her head, a garland of flowers around her flowing cape.

"So do you," Evey shot back, fixing a loose twig in his own crown. "Now go and enchant them, Goodfellow," she said, giving his bum a little playful slap as he moved into the wings for his first entrance.

* * *

The stage was dark, ready for the final scene. Neil knew that in the wings Evey was fixing her crown, afraid it was losing too many leaves, and soon, the lights would dim, and it would all be over, the beautiful dream that he himself was about to speak on.

He turned to face the audience once more, glancing out as if addressing each one of them. He could see, far in the back, the figure he knew was his father- shoulders hunched, silently judging, unmoved.

"If we shadows have offended," he began, and suddenly it struck him how much of this he needed to tell his father, if he'd listen.

"Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumber'd here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream,

Gentles, do not reprehend:

If you pardon, we will mend:

And, as I am an honest Puck,

If we have unearned luck

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,

We will make amends ere long;

Else the Puck a liar call;

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends."

He backed away, upstage, and the curtain closed to wild applause, letting the rest of the cast rush back onstage. "You did it!" Evey said, gathering his hand to hers for the bows. The curtain flew back up, and the crowd behind it was still cheering. "YAWP!" came a cry from the middle seats; it must have been Charlie and the others, no one else would say that. They bowed, and then Evey and Spencer shoved Neil forward, the cheers getting even louder as Neil bowed by himself, amazed.

The curtain shut. The show was over. Neil and Evey elbowed and fought their way back to the wings, finally hugging when they had enough space to do so.

"Neil," said Mrs. Brush, the stage manager, "Your father. He's-"

Neil nodded in agreement, starting for the stage door. "I know."

"Your father?" Evey asked. "He's… here? He was watching the show tonight?"

"He came about half way in; I saw him in the back. I have to go talk to him," Neil said, starting for the door out to the house.

"I'm coming with you," Evey said, catching hold of his hand. "We'll face it together."

"I don't want you to –"

"We'll face it together," Evey said strongly, pushing the door out to the house open and marching to the back of the theater with Neil in tow. "Now come on, it's now or never."

"Neil, who is this?" Mr. Perry asked, looking at the young woman on his son's arm, face covered in stage paint and costume looking, per her role, a little bit on the revealing side.

"Dad, this is Evelyn Langford. She's my girlfriend," Neil said.

"Hi," said Evey, putting out her hand to shake with him. Mr. Perry did not take it, and instead took his son by the shoulder, pulling him aside.

"Neil, this is absurd," Mr. Perry hissed. "Did you bring her here to garner sympathy? Because I will not have it!"

"EVEY!" A loud voice boomed from behind Mr. Perry, who turned around to face a very tall, imposing sort of man. "Where's my darling girl?"

"Dad!" Evey said, dropping Neil's hand and going to kiss her father on the cheek, standing on tip-toe to do so.

"You were phenomenal, goosie! And this is the young man I've been hearing about every Friday night phone call," Mr. Langford said, shaking hands with Neil. "Neil Perry. Nice job, son. You must be his father," he said, shaking hands with Mr. Perry, who was trying not to look annoyed. "You must be very proud. Powell Langford," He said with the authority of a man who knows his name opens doors.

"Thomas Perry. You …wouldn't be Powell Langford of Langford and Sons?" Mr. Perry asked tentatively. He'd recognize the name – it was published often enough in the business dailies.

"The publishing house, yes," Mr. Langford said. "Your boy is really something, Mr. Perry, from what my daughter tells me, the sort we'd love to have at the firm. A leader, star student, writer! After he's done with college, of course. Evey tells me you're going to be a Harvard man?" he asked, looking back at Neil.

"Yes sir, full scholarship," Neil said proudly. Mr. Perry looked a little put out that his son would mention he wasn't going there on old family money, but he hid it well.

"Evey's told you she's going to Radcliffe, of course, so you'll practically be neighbors. Boston's a good town for writers and actors, if you're willing to slum it a little," Mr. Langford said. "And we have offices there, so if it's too much for him to come home during the summer we'd have some employment there for him, interning and learning the trade."

"Thank you," Mr. Perry said, "But we'd better be going," he said, putting his arm around Neil's shoulder.

"But you'll come out with us? Dinner and drinks to celebrate. Your wife's welcome to join us, if she likes," Mr. Langford said.

"My wife's not here," Mr. Perry said thinly.

"Well, come on, the car's just this way. I won't take no for an answer," Mr. Langford said. "Now, we'll let them run along and get dressed while you tell me a little about yourself, Mr. Perry. What is it you do for a living?"

It was Evey and Neil's cue to beat a quick exit for the stage door, rushing to the dressing rooms, which were starting to empty.

"You didn't tell me your dad was in publishing!" Neil said, smoothing cold cream over his face to get the greasepaint off and then scrubbing madly.

"You didn't tell your dad we were dating!" Evey accused back. "And I didn't think about it before! But it's perfect! We'll convince him there's a lucrative career in writing for you after all! Now pass the Pond's, I can't go to dinner looking like this," she said, liberally spreading the thick white cream over her face to remove the stagepaint.

"You brilliant, brilliant girlfriend of mine! If you didn't have cold cream all over your face, I'd kiss you!" Neil proclaimed to Evey.

"Oh, kiss me anyway," Evey said, leaning over for a quick peck on the lips, the only part of her face not covered in Pond's.

Finally they were dressed, Evey in a nice skirt she must have had in her bag, Neil in clothes that probably could have used a press since they'd been living in his bag overnight. Last night in the scene shop seemed a lifetime away- he was older now, wiser, and more experienced. He'd done his first show, had sex for the first time, and, perhaps most importantly, done something entirely for himself. It was exhilarating. And now he was going to dinner with Evey's parents and his father and his dream of going to college for art, and not science, would finally be realized.

Mr. Langford was standing next to his Rolls Royce waiting for them, with Mr. Perry's humble looking Ford alongside it, practically green with envy.

"These people have money, so behave yourself," Mr. Perry cautioned Neil as he got in the passenger door to the Ford to follow them to the restaurant.

"There's a lot of money in publishing, Dad," Neil said, surprised that he had changed his tune so quickly. "People have to read."

The restaurant adventure could not have gone any better if it were scripted– the restaurant was expensive enough to impress Mr. Perry, Mr. Langford ordered champagne for the whole table – "They're old enough to celebrate a victory when they see one!" he said of Neil and Evey when the waiter asked how many flutes to bring – and ordered food with the wild abandon of a man 

who knows how to eat well and for whom money is not an object. Mrs. Langford, who said very little besides the usual pleasentries throughout the meal, was just as quiet as her husband was loud; Neil couldn't really imagine what had attracted her to Mr. Langford in the first place.

Mr. Perry was very impressed, and asked several very calculating questions about the profits of publishing, how lucrative it might be for "a young man like Neil," he said, patting his son on the shoulder.

"Lucrative? Best business in the world, when you've had guidance on what sells. Marketing, that's the key to any successful business. Find a product that sells. And books have practically sold themselves since Gutenberg started the printing business! People won't always have money to bank or law cases to put to court, but they will always want to read," Langford was saying in his booming voice. "You'll want to eat more, Neil, put some meat on those shoulders. They practically hold up Evey's world right now. She can't get through a phone call without mentioning you once," Mr. Langford confided to Neil. "Personally," he said, leaning closer to the young man, "I think she's made a good choice by you," he confided with a chuckle.

"Thank you, sir," Neil said, spearing his fork into the steak in front of him.

"Now, to business," Mr. Langford said, holding up his champagne flute. "To Evey and Neil, for a fantastic performance," he said.

"To us," Neil and Evey said, clicking their glasses together across the table and exchanging a look.

"To Neil and Evey," Mr. Perry said, with a little bit more enthusiasm. As the night wore on, and the champagne flutes were filled and emptied a few more times, Mr. Perry's enthusiasm grew. When they got in the car to drive Neil back to Welton, Tom Perry was on the Perry-for-Harvard-and-an-english-degree boat with both feet, even if the feet were slightly tipsy at the moment.

"He's practically offered you a job, and of course you'll take him up on it. think of it; my son, in the Langford Publishing house. It'll mean a great deal to your mother, of course, but you'll be famous, son! You'll go to parties and meet all the right people, and perhaps even give commencement speeches! My son, a publishing magnate. Neil Perry, CEO. It has a nice ring to it," he decided proudly.

"Kind of like Ph.D," Neil thought to himself. "Evie was right- those little letters do give you power."

* * *

It was brought to my attention last chapter that this story is riddled with cliches. I'd like to inform my readers that days and months of my time were not devoted to making sure that didn't happen. I spent a week writing this. A very scant week, from something I started writing my freshman year of high school after watching Dead Poet's Society for the first time. Like many young, immature fangirls, I did not want my favorite character to die. Four years and a lot of experience in fanfiction later, I have accomplished that here, and cliches or no cliches, it was a story that I liked writing.

Just one more chapter and the epilogue left.


	12. Epilogue

The Epilogue.

* * *

"We're done!" Evey cried, throwing her arms around Neil. "Oh, god, we're done! The Class of 1964 is HISTORY! Well, you're done, anyway," she amended. "Done with school, and ready to take on life. You look so good in that black gown," she said as a side note, stepping back and brushing a few stray specks of dust off the shoulder, standing back to survey her work as if she were Michelangelo, gazing with longing at her own new David.

"The bachelors of arts hoods look much better than bachelors of science," Neil said, inspecting his hood as a few chemistry majors went by, chatty and vibrant.

"And the honors collar is a nice addition. But I think you'd look good in whatever you wore," Evey said. "Of course," she whispered, leaning into him, one hand on his chest, "I'm a little prejudiced."

"Yes, you are," Neil assured her, kissing her ear and eliciting a yelp from Evey.

"It's all happening so fast. Next week we will be safely in our apartment, you will be sitting behind a large desk in Langford and Sons Publishing House proofreading copy, and I will be back at Harvard doing graduate degree work," she said, taking his hand in her own and swinging their intertwined arms back and forth as they strolled across the lawn.

"Is this what you planned, Evey?" Neil asked, stopping and sitting down underneath a tree.

Evey sat down next to him and held his hand in her lap, smiling at him. "Is it not what you'd imagined for your graduation day, Neil? Were you seeing yourself on the way medical school instead of engaged to a grad student with a job all lined up and waiting for you?"

"Yeah, maybe," he said with a shrug. "Our marriage won't be what I expected, anyway," Neil admitted.

"You expected a stay-at-home mother, a house with a white picket fence and a few screaming children?" Evey asked, her sarcasm evident.

"And a dog. Don't forget the dog," Neil reminded her, and Evey rolled her eyes.

"Of course, the dog! And instead you're getting a second floor walk up, a feminist grad student wife who wants no children and several cats."

"Emphasis on several," Neil reminded her again, a silly grin on his face.

"Yes, your mother didn't seem too happy with that," Evey laughed.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Neil said back at her, making Evey laugh again.

"Yes, that's the man I'm marrying," she exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek. "Literate to the core. Are you disappointed?" she asked him, looking into his eyes.

"Not a day goes by when I am not absolutely in love with the life I've got," Neil stated frankly.

"Good," Evey said, grabbing his arm. The ring on her finger sparkled a little in the mid-morning sun. "Now let's go find your parents and rub it in a little."

* * *

Mr. Perry put his hands in his pockets and turned around, inspecting the room.

"Well," He said finally. "It's certainly a nice office," he managed, nodding as he considered it. And truthfully, it was a nice office, situated on the eighth floor of Langford and Sons Publishing house. A corner office, just down the hall from his father-in-law's palatial office suite, the letters CEO beckoning on the door.

"I'll have my own secretary outside, and my nameplates are at the engravers," Neil said proudly. "Neil Perry, Assistant Editor. And I'm having business cards printed, too, so when those are done I'll be sure you and Mom have a copy."

"Nice view, too," Mr. Perry said, looking out from the window across the rest of Boston sprawling out in front of them, the harbor winking in between the buildings. "You must …not get much noise up here," He said, flicking the blinds a few times experimentally.

"No, we don't. Above the sixth floor, it gets pretty quiet," Neil explained.

"I never got above floor five," Mr. Perry recounted, as if he were struggling for things to say. Neil knew this wasn't the Thomas Perry-approved path for First-and-Only-born Sons, but it was better than still being in medical school, racking up loans. He was fresh out of college, virtually no loans as a nature of his scholarship money, had a job at one of the most prestigious firms in what he did, a job as an assistant editor, three steps away from the CEO of the company, he was buying a loft in the city, he was getting married – what more did his father want from him?

"Oh, your mother wanted you to have this – it's the wedding announcement from the Globe. They had it printed up right next to the write-up about the Kennedy Gala last week, and your Aunt Gail sent us a copy from the New York papers." Mr. Perry handed over the folded section, with the words "Save for Neil" written at the top in his mother's immaculate handwriting. Underneath, in a different shade of pen, she had added, as an afterthought, "And Evelyn."

Neil shook his head. His mother was still getting used to the idea of Evey as a permanent fixture in his life, even after she'd helped pick out table settings, gone with her son and fiancée to taste cakes, and driven around most of eastern Massachusetts and some of downstate New Hampshire to find a place for the wedding. Now they were shopping in some fancy boutique with Evey's mother, and he was sure that his mother was still in denial about the current state of his love life.

His father was still going on, something about write-ups in the Chicago papers as well, because Langford and Sons was a fixture in their business community, but the articles weren't nearly long enough, and how despite that, he was so pleased with his son, and in the middle of all this blather, Neil had a revelation. It wasn't about him.

Oh, the conversation his father was trying to have with him was about him in the subjective sense, but in the bigger picture, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't about his happiness. It was about his father's.

He'd known this for quite some time, now that he thought about it, but it had never really been fully apparent before. Everything in his life, every step he had taken and opportunity he had been given was only a change to make his father look better, play the part of the benevolent dad and proud parent of an honors scholar, a Welton boy, a doctor. Who cared about whether Neil was marrying a girl who made him feel like the happiest man alive? All that mattered was that the papers covered it in the appropriate fashion, with enough words and pictures to make more illustrious families like the Kennedys cringe and ones call them conceited. Neil Perry's life happiness had been subject to the requirements of Thomas Perry's ego.

He'd changed that, hadn't he, by enrolling in Harvard for English instead of Biology or Chemistry for a Pre-Med background. He'd changed it by finishing at Welton, by continuing to act on the stage, by loving Evey, who with her tempestuous nature challenged everything the elder Perry stood for. He had upset the whole apple cart five years ago, and Thomas Perry was still trying to pick up the apples by finding something, anything, that would be a crack in this plan of his son's, whether it was the number of words in the wedding announcement or the fact that the shades in his office didn't quite close right. And to Neil's delight, he was failing.

It was Evey who was responsible for all of this, he decided. What would have happened if she hadn't been there, at that dance, standing against the wall talking about surfeits of music and the food of love? Listening to his father talk on and on about how proud he was of his one and only son, and knowing now that the words were as empty as they come, Neil decided he would probably rather have died.

And knowing this, he smiled and nodded at his father, said all the right things, and went home that night to Evey and their cats and her graduate thesis in their small, three-room, second floor walk-up and felt more alive than he had ever felt before.


End file.
